


Maybe that's a lie

by RedwRose



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes (1984 TV), Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Angst, Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, Feelings Realization, First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:42:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24147586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedwRose/pseuds/RedwRose
Summary: After the case of the devil's foot, Holmes reflects on the feelings he feels for Watson, hiding out of a veil of coldness
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 1
Kudos: 23





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Needless to say, the sentence that says Holmes that he never loved is of a unique lie, but since it was the 80/90 and in the canon it is said that in reality Holmes feels nothing for anyone (They say eh! I don't believe it) it is nice to create what we have never seen.  
> This is a fic that surely will look like other wonderful ones that I have already read, but seriously what i write is all the film I made after having seen the episode countless times.  
> Warning:  
> References to Holmes' drug and addiction, if you're sensitive to this, he doesn't really read the whole story.

Holmes's pov

I had said it, hoping that Watson hadn't deduced behind my words, in reality I wouldn't never have said my feelings directly.  
The emotions, the romance, the words of affection and love, had never been in my nature, but with the phrase "I never loved" I was lying to myself, and yes if something had happened to Watson my revenge would have been ruthless. This is why I run away from emotions, which kill logic, but I couldn't say my thoughs to Watson, at least not directly, I preferred to make him believe that after all these years I'm still the same cold machine without feelings. I never loved, but the object of my love was in front of me. How could I ever declare these illegal feelings.

Watson's pov

"Watson, I've never loved." I never thought that those words hit me as directly as a punch in the stomach, not that I didn't know that Holmes had always been extranius about love and romance, or women, but hearing him say those words so directly made a small part of me break. Not only because I had the realization that Holmes would never love anyone as ordinary people usually do, but this took away all hope that he could prove something for me. Yes, of such audacity the thought in deluding me that Holmes could prove something for me besides friendship, still dragged me into the darkest thoughts.  
My name which he pronounced so terrified:  
"John!", And at the same time relieved, it made me shiver.  
We had gone to town to restore Holmes' health and we ended up again in a case, a case that deeply disturbed me, Holmes resolved the case very well, recovering his usual audacity and power. He smiled at me and his eyes shone with a light that I could not catch "Watson! We are on holiday remember?"  
So the day went wonderfully, Holmes was particularly energetic, but I never imagined what would have happened between us in a few hours in the middle night.

Holmes's pov

Watson and I we have spent the rest of the day in a wonderful way, I saw him as usual calm, and I'm sure that my thoughts on him were preserved from my usual way of being, but in the evening when we come back in the house I started to feel the urgent need for my dose,  
I knew that morphine and cocaine could be addictive, but my usual and accurate dosage of my 7% solution had always made me feel confident, but this didn't happen, I cursed myself, Watson and I were in the living room near the fireplace, Watson reading and smoking a pipe while i sitting in front of him.I smoked countless cigarettes trying in vain to ignored the numerous signs that my body and mind were asking. Last one thing, a dose. My thoughts fixed, I felt thirsty and hungry, I desired a dose that couldn't have.  
Began to feel nervous, I began to sweat, and the chills of cold hit me, even more deeply as I hugged my old blanket around me. A dose, a single one and then I would have stopped, the needle, the lace around the arm, the liquid, the tip that cuts the skin on the surface, the liquid circulates in the veins, the bliss and the soft numbness of morphine.  
I woke up “Holmes! Holmes! Can you hear me?! Are you OK? You look terrible, maybe it wasn't a good idea to follow the case, after all you came here to recover"  
Watson's hand rested on my shoulder and with a hasty gesture I pushed it away from me and exploded with extremely angry words that I had no intention of pronouncing, but that came to my mouth as if someone else had been speaking and exploded without restraint: " Don't touch me! I'm fine! I don't need you to nurse me! And to be precise, there was a murder involved, or you are so stupid to think that I could not accept the case pretending nothing! This is my job, Doctor Watson! " I jumped up from my chair and saw the consternation, but also the severity of Watson's eyes, I had hurt him, but he only limited himself to saying "How do you prefer Holmes" his gaze does not leave me a moment, and I for not being discovered in my abject state I hastily dismissed running up the stairs to go to my room without looking back, but it was too late Watson had understood what was wrong, but I did not leave him any right to reply. I could never have stayed close to him in this state, I would have begged Watson himself for a dose, or worse I could have hit him with my words to the poison wounding him again and again.  
Before reaching my room in precarious conditions an unhealthy idea flashed in my head, I knew that in his medical bag Watson kept all his tools for every emergency and always carried it with him even if we did not work on a case, therefore with total contempt in Watson's private space, I sneaked into his room and opened his medical bag hoping and longing to find my poison. So it was, there was the bottle with its contents near the syringes, I took them and left the order of Watson's room together I also believe in my shame.

I went to my room I unbuckled the cuff of my shirt, rolled it up with a certain frenzy carrying out the preparation with abundance and precision and my thirst was satisfied, my relief, my numbness, lie like fog in my mind.

Watson's pov

Holmes's reaction hit me like frozen water, not that I didn't know his mood swings, but this seemed out of the ordinary for Holmes too, even if the concept of normal with Holmes was relative, when to take his eyes away from what I was reading I saw Holmes staring at the void with a look of pain in his eyes I was frightened, I called him but did not answer, and so I decided to get up and try to draw attention to him by placing my hand on his shoulder, which made him jump, and his gaze troubled me enormously, his face was a mask of wax, slight drops of sweat framed his face, which now paler than usual of a ghostly whiteness, the pupils of the eyes of a black that would have engulfed anyone. I was not surprised, in fact, his verbal explosion towards me, his body language had already alerted me, and I looked at him severely knowing that he had symptoms of probable abstinence at all, as this is possible I can not explain it except with an increase in doses or with its total abandonment. But I limited myself to a brief answer to the invective that I leave, after this he ran away up the stairs probably retiring to his room. Sincerely or thought of following him, but I was still too troubled by his reaction to act, wondering how it was possible that Holmes after all these years tended to hide from me such important things that related to his health. How was it possible that after all this time Holmes had so little faith in me, after all that had happened in these years. The sadness invested me in full, and the unpleasant feeling of memories and emotions suddenly returned to me without anything I could do to stop them. The falls, Moriarty, Holmes's death, the pain of having lost the person I love, the three long years spent surviving and not living, his return, happiness and unbelief and the wound of knowing that his brother of Holmes knew and I didn't have such a privilege, the trust, which I don't think I deserve  
"Of course you are Watson!" he said.  
I took a sip of whiskey and lit a cigarette and stood looking at the fireplace fire tired of these disheartening thoughts, when i hear the sound of boards creaking. I had decided to wait to follow Holmes, but I wanted to make sure of his condition, so I threw the butt in the fireplace, took the last sip in the glass and walked towards the stairs, once I reached the top, Holmes' room faced my but I found it ajar. I entered my room and with great horror I found my medical bag open, its contents spilled on the bed and the lack of morphine and syringe. Without hesitation I rushed to Holmes' room and without bothering to knock with the anger that mounted, I opened the door with such energy that it swung open and slammed violently inward. I saw Holmes sitting on his back on the sofa, his shirt half open which showed his ghostly skin, the sleeves of his shirt pulled up, the empty syringe and its contents resting on a small table.  
"Watson, I apologize very much, I did something I should never have done" a small laugh rises from his lips.  
"Holmes! How the hell could you sneak into my room, rummage through my medical bag to steal morphine! Why didn't you just tell me you were sick! I could have helped you! "  
Exploded like a fury, what hurt most was not the lack of privacy, we used to have confidence in our personal belongings, but the fact of having taken morphine made me go on a rampage, above all it denoted that in order to have a dose had been able to steal it directly without any scruple.  
"My dear, my dear Watson, forgive me if I tell you that leaving certain substances in your medical bag while you have someone who abuses them is a really stupid mistake" I look at myself defiantly  
“Then Holmes admit to having an addiction! Since you are able to blame me for having legitimately left certain substances in MY room and MY medical bag! " I exclaimed in amazement and still excessively nervous.  
Holmes I do not look at myself, I look down his bold smile shoot out "My dear Watson, I do not know how to apologize, I ... I had buried my syringe, before the case, I never imagined that I would have shrunk like that, forgive me .. .I think I have developed a strong addiction and yes I had the presumption of being in control. " I look up and stare with his tired but penetrating eyes at the dilated pupils black as pitch, the His gaze is a plea for forgiveness and not being judged.  
"Holmes why didn't you tell me about it! Because you preferred to betray my trust, rather than trust me, because you don't trust me Holmes ... "At my words Holmes jumped I try to say something but the words died between his lips. My anger dissipated, giving way to a black disappointment. I didn't say anything I did to get out with my back.  
"Watson! For God's sake don't go! I ... I trust you! I would entrust every fiber of my soul to you ... "


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holmes is not too much in himself, Watson tries to bring out Holmes' feelings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I fixed myself  
> about this song while editing the story.
> 
> Bebe Rexha - Last Hurrah -
> 
> I'm getting old
> 
> When I write my Holmes it's always the Granada version, Jeremy always, but feel free to imagine who you want.
> 
> Last chapter, enjoy!

Holmes's pov

I woke up dressed, it took me a while to understand where I was, took a cigarette from the bedside table near my bed, looked at myself in the mirror, the reflection showed a worn and sloppy face, then like a flash, the realization of what had happened the previous evening.  
Nausea and panic assailed me, what had he done to Watson? how can i have behaved like this! i look the clock almost midday, rushed out of the room without even settling down: "Watson!" arrived in the living room i found no one, scoured the other rooms, knocked on Watson's room with an attack of anxiety that came to me, at memory of the past night. Nothing, no answer. He was probably out. I decided to get settled, I washed and put on my black suit with pinstripe trousers and once in order, I waited for Watson in the sitting room on the armchair, smoking.  
I wondered how I could look him in the face and, if he ever forgave me, every man has a limit of endurance and Watson had been far too patient so far, but watson has i kind hearth.  
Countless cigarettes after and almost an hour late Watson arrived, "Good morning Holmes, how are you feeling today, better?"  
Maybe Watson was using the strategy of indifference, because he say good morning as usual, and I replied stammering quite shocked by such naturalness, "Well, Watson thank you, did it go well ... the walk?" I said. Watson looked at me, he was extremely tired and tried, from a sleepless night almost certainly because of me. But he didn't get upset didn't answer immediately, he seemed troubled undecided about what to do. "Watson, for last night, please forgive me..."  
"Holmes, don't worry, you weren't in yourself, let's act like nothing happened"  
he said giving me his surrender, if Watson's strategy was to pretend he was doing well, because he liquidated saying goodbye that he was going to rest and I leave myself alone in the living room without even having time to reply.

I spent the day in a confused state, I still felt the effects of the dose, and I had a total absence of appetite, waited for Watson to come down from his room, and decided unusually for my habits to prepare something to eat for Watson.  
I prepared the table for dinner and waited, I was taken by my thoughts when I found myself Watson a meter away calling me: "Holmes, I see you have prepared dinner" he said with a rather puzzled look.  
"Ah Watson! Come sit down, I guess you'll be hungry! Rested well? "  
I clapped my hands and with a gesture of the hand I gestured to Watson to sit down, he followed my gesture and he sat, he lift the lid of the stew I had prepared, I rubbed my hands waiting for Watson's judgment on the dinner I had prepared. However, he remained still with the lid in his hand, biting his lips slightly, staring at the contents of the pan, puzzled, then he fixed myself, he returned his gaze to the pot, took the ladle and quite undecided on what to do, he took a small portion of stew and put it on the plate. He tasted, his lips tightening as if he had eaten a lemon. "Holmes, the taste is disgusting". When he saw my expression he hastened to say: "Thanks anyway for having prepared, but you are much better at mixing chemicals than ingredients in the kitchen" and he give myself a smile.  
"Aren't you going to eat Holmes?" He said. "No no no Watson, my intention was to use you for my culinary experiment, but I think the experiment is failed" I said with a slight smile and a show of hands as if to chase away an insect. At this point Watson put down the cutlery and stare at me as if he wanted to read me inside, I began to settle on the chair uncomfortable. "Holmes what about last night when you said you loved me were you serious?"  
The question hit me like a slap in the face, almost i fell off the chair in the position I was, i bleached and started to sweat cold. Did I tell Watson that I loved him? How was that possible? Perhaps under the effect of morphine, in my delirium had I confessed such a secret? "Watson ... what ... what exactly I would have told you, I believe you are wrong, you know perfectly well that I am totally unrelated to feelings" I got up and turned my back on him going towards the fireplace trying to avoid his gaze " logic first of all! How can you have such an idea? No feelings for women, let alone men. Ah Watson! You always surprise me! "  
I heard the steps towards me, and I didn't dare turn around, silence reigned, disturbed only by the crackle of the fire and the wind. I felt myself grasping my elbow and Watson turned me around towards him, so as to be face to face, so close that I felt the scent of his cologne and tobacco, his breathing fast, his gaze was severe and determined. With great effort I managed to simulate coldness and I stared at him with intensity. We looked at each other for a time that seemed infinite, then he spoke : "Don't pretend with me, I've known you for too many years, and i know I don't have your acumen and your logical skills, but I know what are the feelings , so don't lie to me! I understood perfectly what you said to me last night and I stopped you, because I was afraid. You said that you have extreme trust in me, and you would entrust your own soul to me, but every time I am in a room with you I always feel as if in reality I was never worthy of your trust." he said it in one breath, in the meantime he never let go of my arm and the heat of his hand began to oppress me. I wanted to run away, my mind could not find a logical way to deal with Watson's words, then I grimaced with my lips and trying to get away from him.  
"The great consulting detective perhaps uses the excuse of the feelings kill logic because maybe you are afraid of feelings, because if it is not so then, because what happened the last night had nothing logical"  
I screamed, “Watson! Let me go! I have no intention of moving forward in this absurd discussion! So please leave me alone, I wasn't in myself last night and this must be enough for you! Now if you allow, I'm going to retire to my rooms! " I looked away, but nothing did not let me go I wriggled, but in vain, I knew that Watson was a strong person, but I was too, but it seemed that his strength totally dominated me, he grabbed my other arm and slammed me against the wall, I thought he wanted to hit me, i was shocked: "Watson what the hell!"  
Then he kissed me, his soft lips vehemently printed on mine and with his arms locked by his firm grip and the weight of his body on mine, I could not move, his mustache tickled me, and I felt a warmth and excitement in everything the body that I had not tried before, his kiss was greedy, but I did not respond, I was paralyzed and when I took my breath away, I realized that I had stopped breathing, then the darkness fall on me.

Watson's Pov

When in the early morning after a sleepless night I decided to take a walk to detach my thoughts from what had happened the night before, I wondered how I could face Holmes, my emotions were fluctuating, Holmes declared himself to me "Watson ... I believe ... I believe I love you "  
I had stopped him, but it was too late, I don't know why but I was afraid, I felt teased, not only after what had happened with the story of the morphine,but his total lack of trust in me.  
I would have decided to face Holmes directly, putting him in front of his actions, pretending indifference and naturalness, I would have hit him at the right time. Feeling more confident after devising my plan, I walked home, with a slightly lighter soul. It was midday and when I entered I found Holmes sitting in a cloud of smoke, his legs crossed in one of his unusual uncomfortable positions. When he saw me he seemed to be waiting for me, he was still emaciated and pale, but he seemed to have done everything to be well dressed and impeccable as always. Dressed in black with his pinstriped trousers, his hair combed back, his red lips on his pale face, I realized that I was stop at the door too much and I hurried speack to Holmes as I usually to do, but to avoid suspicions I leaved early the room leaving it alone. I fell on the bed exhausted the sleep overwhelmed me immediately, I dreamed Holmes, with his deep voice whispering words that I didn't understand, his tall figure created a shadow on the threshold in a wall and from the window the rays of the sun filtered creating a game of light with the colors of the rainbow, Holmes in a breath was near me whispering in my ear: "My dear fellow, thank you for never giving up on me".  
I woke up suddenly, the sounds of pots and footsteps in the rooms lower, I settled and I went down the stairs. I found Holmes in the living room with the table set and dinner, the wind had blown against the windows, I sat. I remained impassive and neutral, when I tasted his stew I actually lied, for Holmes's culinary standarts it was edible and not disgusting as I said, but that evening I would have teased him, when I saw that he had relaxed I launched my attack. I put down the cutlery and stared at him: "Holmes as regards last night, when you said you loved me were you serious?"  
Holmes became pale, answering uneasily he got up from his chair and turned his back on me, I walked towards him and I grabbed him by the arm, turning him towards me, I didn't let go of my determination to reveal his true feelings.  
When he continued to deny, I decided it was time to break down his logical defenses, I grabbed him and with perhaps too much roughness I kissed him, my desire was big, my kiss was a mixed with anger and desire.

Holmes did not respond to the kiss, remained motionless under my weight, when I detached myself from him to catch my breath, Holmes seemed to look for air and passed out under my arms.

I placed him on the seated sofa, took some brandy and made him drink it to resume it. He woke up muttering in a deep voice, something indefinite with his eyes half open, when he open them wide as if he had suddenly come to life, and he speaked, in a soft and deep voice: "My dear Watson, my state of health is not optimal, you wanted to kill me? " I thought he was going away and instead he held my arms with his thin hands: "Forgive me for what happened yesterday, what I said is the true, Watson I lied, I was afraid and I also lied to myself, what I said I claim and it is what I feel for you".  
He approached and put his lips on mine giving me a chaste kiss.  
My heart leapt, all the tension of these two days dissolved like a cloud, when he detached himself from me i looked at him and with all the love I could transmit to him with my gaze i said: "The same for me, I was too rude, but you are so stubborn that I thought you had to blow yourself out of the shell". "  
"Watson, you did it very well, I think I almost died from your assault, please don't ever do it again," he said melodramatically, running his long fingers through his hair.

I pushed away his collar without the tie by unbuttoning the first buttons, his skin was red and hot. I look at myself with an enigmatic look, with my fingers I caressed his neck, I touched his lips with my fingers and he trembled at the touch, he started to speak but i shut him up with my index finger resting on his lips . "If you're so sensitive, then tonight ,I'll have to be careful how to handle you," I whispered maliciously. He was shocked: "Wa_Watson!"

That night as in my dream, embrace each other, whispering he said to me:"Thank you for never giving up on me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm done with the drinking, I'm done with the smoking  
> I'm done with the playing, I'm done with the joking  
> I'm done with the ladies, I'm done with the fellas  
> Just sayin' (yeah)  
> Farewell tequila, so long margarita  
> And lady sativa, I hate to leave ya  
> Don't want the pressure, I don't need a lecture  
> No, thank you, honey, God bless ya  
> I know I've said it all before (said it all before)  
> But it won't hurt to do it all once more  
> This is my last hurrah, once I start  
> I ain't gon' stop 'til I go too far  
> Last hurrah and it's okay  
> Maybe tomorrow I won't feel this pain  
> Last hurrah  
> Last hurrah  
> I'm done with the heartache, I'm done with the demons  
> Can't wait to be normal, right after this weekend  
> I'm done with the drama, I'm fixing my karma  
> One more night of pure nirvana  
> I know I've said it all before  
> But it won't hurt to do it all once more  
> This is my last hurrah, once I start  
> I ain't gon' stop 'til I go too far  
> Last hurrah and it's okay  
> Maybe tomorrow I won't feel this pain  
> Last hurrah  
> Last hurrah  
> Maybe I'll never change  
> But I'm still glad I came  
> Try again another day  
> But for now  
> This is my last hurrah, once I start  
> I ain't gon' stop 'til I go too far  
> Last hurrah and it's okay  
> Maybe tomorrow I won't feel this pain  
> Last hurrah  
> Last hurrah

**Author's Note:**

> I like the stories that mention the side effects of drugs. In the episode of Granada obviously it could not be reproduced, but stopping in reality is not so simple.


End file.
